


Arsène Lupin and the Case of the Honeyed Topiary

by clarasimone



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arsène Lupin - Freeform, Barbara Cartland, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Cunnilingus, Erotica, F/M, Masks, Naked Female Clothed Male, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Passionate Sex, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Some Humor, Topiary, True Love, great gatsby, masked sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2020-10-18 15:37:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20641559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarasimone/pseuds/clarasimone
Summary: When Jorah and Daenerys are invited to a 1920s themed ball, Daenerys finds herself the willing prey of Jorah who lures her, dancing, into the topiary maze of a château.





	Arsène Lupin and the Case of the Honeyed Topiary

**Author's Note:**

> This one-off showcases Jorah and Daenerys as they appear in Houseofthebear's serial "Blurring the lines". This time, they just happened to tumble into my playfully subversive take on the work of Barbara Cartland whose impossibly archaic and romantic novels cradled my teen years. I’ve always thought her books were screaming for explicit erotic scenes. Without them, her 723 novels amount to the longest foreplay in pop lit history and, I’m sorry, but at one point, ya need release. Which is to say that, this time, I wrote a no-angst Jorleesi romantic fluff fic with explicit amour. I hope you enjoy ! 
> 
> Squealing thanks to Chryssadirewolf for her beautiful artwork. Hugs and kisses to Ser-Jorah-the-Andal for shadowing me as Beta. And, as usual, my most humble gratitude to my soul sis' Houseofthebear who, this time around, specifically provided Venus' dimples and let me borrow my favorite line from "Obsession".

**ARSÈNE LUPIN AND THE CASE OF THE HONEYED TOPIARY**

A bottle of champagne pops in the fragrant nightly air of Provence and cheers erupt all around. Applause too, quickly turning into laughter when the bubbly liquid spurts forth in a fountain jet, barely sparing Jorah’s Edwardian tuxedo. 

Daenerys is looking at her man from across the buffet table, smiling and shaking her head in disbelief. _What a show-off !_ _A sweet one though_. She loves how Jorah, in charming CEO mode, can work a crowd. He does it in earnest too, when in good company, and he’s working his magic right now. They are standing in the reception hall of an elegant and intimate French _château_, Beaux Arts in style, its feminine arabesques and white decor framing those assembled there in picture perfect poses. They could be in a Maxfield Parrish illustration, or a drawing by Edward Gorey. Guests are falling over each other, slanting their _flûtes_ to the bubbly and trying to follow Jorah’s instructions. In French no less, with a trace of that British accent which makes every woman here swoon. Daenerys included. And though Jorah is flirting a bit as he fills the ladies’ glasses, his eyes always come back to _her_, smiling… and so some of that Champagne does go to waste after all. Laughter crinkling his eyes, Jorah winks at Daenerys, shrugging at his own mishap. It’s little things like this that make her fall in love with him all over again, every day… 

Biting her bottom lip, she shimmies her way to Jorah, captivating his glance, the light catching on her dress with every swing of her hips. She’s wearing a very becoming 1920s _ Great Gatsby _ sequin frock and her hair is braided up in a very elaborate manner to give her the appearance of a flapper girl. In fact, she looks like a shimmering movie star of days gone by … and she is on a mission to free her _ fiancé _ of his libation duties. Period dance music has just erupted from the ballroom a few feet away, and that proves excuse enough to pounce on her man.

***

_ Earlier that day… _

The themed ball was organized by one of their overseas business partners and as Jorah and Daenerys were in Provence for the summer, they couldn’t really decline the invitation. Though if truth be told, Jorah wasn’t too keen on the idea of spending a whole evening networking. But he relinquished rather easily when Daenerys modeled for him the vintage dresses she could wear for the event. 

It had become somewhat of an unspoken erotic game between them, Daenerys modeling for Jorah. Sometimes it would start very innocently with she, simply going about her morning ritual of dressing for work, but seeing his love walk around in arousing lingerie would stop Jorah in his tracks. He’d sigh and just look at her, sweetly moaning in mock despair: “Dany, _ what _ are you doing?” And seeing Jorah, half-dressed himself but with his cock gloriously erect, she would laugh and come to his rescue. She knew just how to make her forlorn golden bear sigh then. She’d run her hands inside his open shirt to caress his torso, teasing the little pebbles on his expanding chest with her fingernails; and blowing on the gentle fur coloring his skin, she’d very gently rub her silky belly on his thick manhood. 

One velvety growl later, they were sure to be late for work. 

Other times, the modelling was downright ritualized foreplay, even though they’d never speak of it that way, and it made them secretly giddy with anticipation. It had been that way the afternoon of the costume ball when Daenerys received a whole array of slick, black garment boxes with large white bows on top containing very alluring flapper dresses and vintage-looking undies. 

Jorah was on the phone with their London bureau, looking out the window of the office they had set-up in the beautiful _ mas _ they rented —the traditional house gave unto an impressive vineyard—when Dany came in and, looking mischievous, took his hand to steer him away, all the while letting him continue his rather heated business call. In their bedroom, she sat him down in a comfy armchair giving unto her vanity and full-length mirrors. Focused on his call and accustomed to Daenerys’ lovely whims, Jorah prove very docile throughout the whole proceedings. He barely registered, or rather _ pretended _ not to register Dany taking the first dress out of its box , then slip behind a partition to try it on. She came out twirling, and Jorah winked in appreciation but then went back to his conversation, making Daenerys crinkle her nose in doubt and reach for another dress. This time, _ loving _ the pink and yellow sequined dress that hugged her _ petite _ figure, she slipped more slowly from behind the partition and saw Jorah do a double take. That made her proud and she ran her hands over the dress, following the curve of her waist and then down her belly to finish in a “V” over the nether region her dashing bear was now gazing at. He paused slightly on the phone before raising his eyes quickly to Daenerys, looking impressed. Smiling, she waited for Jorah’s comment… but, once more, he simply continued on with his conversation. 

Picking up on the challenge emanating from her _ fiancé _ , the dragon stirred then in her and, pursing her lips, Daenerys went back in hiding… to come out wearing only a peach-colored camisole and lacy undies made of the finest and sheerest of silk. So sheer actually, that Jorah readily saw the rosebud of her erect nipples through the fabric and the silhouette of her silver curls as Daenerys stood there looking defiant. _ That _made his voice catch and he stuttered on the phone, his eyes locked now on his dragon-love moving to her vanity. 

Daenerys was searching… searching for something, Jorah registered, but bending slightly forward, her rounded cheeks taunted him as they nicely spilled from the frilly edges of the hand sewn fabric. He coughed then, having to apologize on the phone, and that made Daenerys smile secretly. _ Progress _, she thought, then turned around, catwalking to her transfixed bear. Stopping in front of his armchair, she made him open his legs for her with one regal glance.

Stepping between Jorah’s knees, Dany then pulled a pair of pink-colored silk stockings from behind her back. Setting one aside on his lap, she proceeded to slip the other one on her leg by resting her dainty feet on the armrest of the cushioned chair. She heard Jorah’s breath catch and he had to clear his throat to resume his phone conversation. His voice faltered some more when next she slowly pulled her garter belt up her shapely leg. Reaching for the other sock, Daenerys halted her movement… her eyes falling upon the distinctive swell of Jorah’s arousal in his linen slacks. _ Ah! Victory! _ Their eyes locked, and she smiled triumphantly, then resumed her movement, taking the other stocking and going about her mesmerizing work; this time raising her other leg to the other armrest. And doing it very slowly, of course, making sure Jorah also saw her lick her lips when looking down once more at his stirring manhood. There was no place left for his beautiful cock in those slacks, she thought, _ but all in good time _. The second garter finally in place, Daenerys straightened up without removing her leg from its perch and, with both hands on her hips, sighed and swiveled slightly to face Jorah, now fully exposing her silk-covered mound to his leveled gaze. 

Her beautifully _ soaked, _ silk-covered mound. 

Jorah’s nostrils flared then, and raising his eyes to Daenerys, he abruptly ended his phone conversation. 

_ Finally _! 

Biting her bottom lip, Daenerys moved both her hands slowly down her belly to where her fingers could slip under her sheer undies, but Jorah stopped her with a sexy growl before looking hungrily into her eyes and whispering, “Let me.” Jorah’s elegant fingers then found their way under Dany’s silky garment and in no time had her purring and rocking her hips gently to his caress. How slippery her little pearl was under his honey-coated digits. And how beautiful his goddess, towering over him, as she wantonly gave herself over to pleasure. Jorah shifted in his armchair to move closer to her. She felt his breath on her skin, just above the hem of her panties, and he kissed her there, softly, while his other hand moved over her thigh. Soon, he was slipping his fingers under her camisole to draw sensual arabesques on the small of her back, round her Venus dimples and back down the gentle swell of her bottom. Could this be more delicious? Especially as Jorah’s other hand, the truly busy one, was adding friction and pressure on her hardening pearl, making her moan out loud. 

Seeing her like this, Jorah hadn’t been able to restrain himself. “That’s it luv, show me how good this feels.” 

She was getting so wet now, one could_ hear _ his caress. Cooing at the sound, Daenerys rocked even more lasciviously and proceeded to unlace her camisole halfway down to free her breasts and toy with her nipples. She loved the look in Jorah’s eyes when he watched her caress herself, whether her breasts or her sex. It always gave her the impression that it was he doing the touching. It excited her no end; it gave her a sense of power; and it made her sex clench. Leaving Jorah reaping the benefits of this amorous reaction because it only meant more creamy dew flowing over his fingers or his tongue —more honey to harvest— and more blood rushing into his famished cock. 

Daenerys was murmuring Jorah’s name now, the heat coiling up in her belly, rapture within her reach, when suddenly, she gasped, feeling her bear’s caress retreating. Staring down at Jorah in surprise, she caught him… simply licking his fingers. He smiled then, falsely contrite, and his voice, like molten chocolate, whispered: “I needed a taste, luv.” The next second, he was reaching out for her, pulling her hips to him, but then he paused to look up at her. Daenerys parted her lips and gently nodded, making him smile a bit wickedly and so, the signal given, he pushed aside the drenched silk to lap at the opalescence coating her skin. The sensation sent a shock up her spine and she felt everything all at once: the tip of his tongue parting her secret lips to find her pearl, making the honey in her folds curl up over its hooded firmness, his soft lips sucking on her swollen knob, and his gruff scratching the inside of her thighs. Moaning with abandon, Daenerys slipped her hands through Jorah’s curls to guide his tongue further up her core and she resumed her rocking, spurred on by his appreciative growls. Soon enough he was ravishing her in the amorous and expert way he always showed her until she climaxed against his mouth.

Daenerys’ sounds of pleasure were still rivaling those of the cicadas singing outside when Mimi, their housekeeper, abruptly stepped inside the bedroom with Huguette, her aid, carrying towels. Both were arguing and only realized their blunder upon hearing Dany cry out in surprise, their eyes locking on the erotic and not so still-life before them. Everyone froze, then both maids quickly retreated, stuttering their excuses and closing the door behind them, giggling. Their laughter was still ringing when Jorah and Dany burst out laughing too, Jorah pulling Dany down unto his lap to kiss her greedily, one of his hand slipping through the opulent mane of her hair to keep her head to his while the other teased her breast. 

“You’re still throbbing Daenerys, I can feel it.” _ That voice of his… _

“I know. Oh, _ what _ should we do?” 

Feeling Dany’s smile on his lips, Jorah let his cock stir anew, and his hips met up her writhing. He loved how Daenerys’ slick underwear was soaking the thin linen of his trousers. He knew very soon his manhood would feel wet too and it was already twitching, searching for her. And so was she, searching for _ him _.

“Baby, I need your cock.”

Whenever Daenerys would let herself speak like this, it made Jorah swallow harder. There was something so immodest and wanton about her then. It made him want to lose control. And she wasn’t even done with him yet, her lips brushing his ear to whisper more naughty desires.

“But can I have a taste first? Please?”

_ God, that teasing of hers! _ Jorah breathed in hard and he had to stop himself from ravishing Dany right there and then. His whisper was hot against her skin. “The French would call you _ gourmande _, Daenerys.” **

She nodded, smiling, and went to bite his lips tenderly while her hand travelled down to his heavy cock in the hopes of freeing it. She couldn’t wait to get her lips around his crown and take her time savoring it. As if he could read her mind, Jorah growled then, kissing Daenerys more deeply and putting his hand on hers under his slacks, their fingers intertwining around his gorged manhood. But then, taking her hand away, he smiled into her eyes and whispered hoarsely that he’d rather keep himself for this evening !

Dany gasped but next her eyes narrowed: what Jorah’s mouth said, his body contradicted. She could feel his cock pushing into her moistness of her panties. He wasn’t even hiding his slow thrusts. But his voice was adamant: he wanted to _ take _ her tonight, after the ball, because seeing her in a period dress, eclipsing all women there with her beauty, would keep him aroused all night, aching for her, and only then would he…. 

“Ravish me? Oh yes, my bear!” Daenerys had cooed. “The way it always is when you’ve not touched yourself in a long time?” 

Jorah blushed over these words, Dany feeling his cheeks get warm under her fingers, so she kissed his bashful smile.

“Darling, I love it so when you gift me with one of your _ spectacular _ejacu-…”

The last of that word got interrupted by a ravenous kiss and an unmistakable throb under her thighs but, quick as lightning, Daenerys slipped out of her bear’s embrace and declared in mock seriousness: “You’re right though, as always, ...we’ll wait!” And then she had to run and lock herself in the bathroom, giggling, because a bear was after her!

So, it was in this highly charged erotic and playful mood that Jorah and Daenerys arrived at the costume ball. 

Jorah was still trying to pry himself away from the friendly crowd when he felt his breath catch seeing Dany walk towards him.

***

How ravishing she looks in the low-cut midnight blue and silver sequin dress she finally chose; her arresting beauty erasing all of his not-so-mock frustration at having been locked out of her dressing room. She’s pulling him towards the dance floor and Jorah can feel himself stir. He’ll finally get to hold her close and… And the music abruptly changes to a Charleston, making Daenerys turn around with a dare in her eyes, but Jorah will have nothing of it. 

“Oh no! Not that, have mercy!”

“Jorahhhh ?!”

“No please! See? Only the women are brave enough. Go! Join them… and show them,” he says, the wink unmistakable in his voice.

Scolding Jorah with her eyes, Dany nonetheless lets herself be whisked upon the stage by female partners who, lining up with her, begin to laugh and giggle their way through the Charleston. Daenerys excels at it though, making Jorah beam at her from the shadows next to the stage. She truly is Fitzgerald’s Daisy now, from _ The Great Gatsby _ , all youthful energy and full of the glamour of _ les années folles _. The Queen of his heart is an Art Deco goddess, and Jorah wants nothing more than to kneel at her altar. By God, how he loves her! 

When the band stops its jazzy assaults in a big flourish, the crowd applauds and Daenerys tumbles into Jorah’s waiting arms, leaning on him to adjust the strap of her high heels. He looks at her with stars in his eyes, laughter crinkling his blue eyes again.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“I am!” she laughs, putting her arms around his neck, “and I only had one _ floote _ of champagne, in case you’re won-“

“It’s pronounced _ flûte _, darling.”

“I don’t…”

“That champagne glass you only had _ one _ of? It’s called a _ flûte _.”

“Floote.”

“No, _ flûte _.” 

And then laughing in earnest, Daenerys raises herself to Jorah’s ear to whisper there: “_ Je sais mon amour. On dit flûte et non pas _ floote… *” 

OK, so she was putting him on! But Jorah smiles — how can he resist her? — and he lets her bring his head down for a kiss.

“I do remember the lessons you gave me, my darling, Jorah. And I DID only drink one _ flûte _ of champagne. I want to remember that deep, _ deep _ rumble escaping your chest when I make you co-“

“Oh, Bertrand!” Jorah interjects then, his face flustered and swinging Dany in his arms but keeping her close to him, “I don’t believe you’ve met Daenerys, my _ fiancée _?” 

A few minutes later, having wowed Bertrand with her financial expertise, Daenerys finds herself drowning in compliments and, desperate to escape, turns to Jorah, who just smiles at her, so proud of her savvy... and, for a teasing second, clearly enjoying her predicament! That is, until Daenerys’ violet eyes scold him, and the band gives him the perfect excuse to save her.

“Bertrand, dear fellow, who better than the French to understand that the orchestra is chastising me right now for my lack of gallantry. I have a beautiful woman on my arm and…” 

“But of course, _ mon ami _ ! I stand chastised myself and corrected.” And then taking Daenerys’ hand to lightly kiss it: “ _ Chère _ Daenerys, certain men have all _ ze _ luck. I hope we will meet again…” 

Looking at Bertrand leave, Dany can’t help groaning through her smile, but she lets herself be drawn away by Jorah, who softly chuckles next to her skin: “I know, luv, I’m sorry. I really am.”

Swaying together, Daenerys can’t help being impressed by Jorah’s smooth moves. It’s like he’s danced before to this sensual period music and she relishes letting go, twirling in his arms, sensing all these pairs of eyes on them. They do make a handsome couple, Jorah’s Edwardian tuxedo looking like it was cut and then literally sewn on him and she, a vision of glamour, her dress glittering in the light and her skin luminescent in the candlelit ballroom. She feels beautiful. _ Jorah’s adoring glance _ makes her feel beautiful. 

And then it hits her, though Jorah is truly dashing tonight, she doesn’t know _ who _ he is dressed like. Bertrand is disguised as a struggling Montmartre painter and she saw a few anarchists and flamboyant poets but… 

“Arsène Lupin!”

“Who?”

“Ah! The lady does not know the gentleman-_ cambrioleur _…”

_ A burglar? _ Indeed! And Jorah explains all about the famed _ Arsène Lupin _, a character penned by French novelist Maurice Leblanc… all the while gracefully steering Daenerys through the room, dancing. But also, very subtly leading her away from the crowd, twirling through the tall glass doors leading outside on the fragrant esplanade. Daenerys seems not to notice, drinking Jorah’s words and learning how Leblanc posited himself as a rival to Conan Doyle, conceiving his Lupin as a kind of slightly satirical take on Sherlock Holmes, even imagining an English foe to his hero which he named Herlock Sholmes!

“But wait, Arsène was a detective _ or _a thief?”

“Well, a bit of both! He’d steal from the aristocracy but also get all tangled up in the affairs of those he would _ détrousse _.“

“_ Détrousse _ ?”

“Steal from. Though what he was _ really _ interested in was… the fairer sex.”

“Oooooh I see. And that’s not why you chose to dress up as him then, is it?”

“No, of course not.”

“And it’s also not why we now find ourselves in the most remote section of the esplanade? Away from prying eyes…” Daenerys can’t keep the jest out of her voice, and neither can Jorah. 

“Noooo, of course not!... Oh! Almost forgot!”

“Wh- ?”

“Lupin wore a mask when visiting his delicious prey. Just so…”

Stopping a second, but keeping his hand on Daenerys’ naked back to secure her to him, Jorah pulls out a skin hugging eye mask from one of his pockets and expertly snuggles it to the bridge of his nose and eyebrows. The sight makes Dany gasp: the bright blue of Jorah’s eyes pop next to the black silk.

Proud of his effect, Jorah pulls Daenerys closer to him and smiling down on her, peruses her face to take in her beauty, before breathing in her sweet jasmine scent. His voice breaks a bit when next he whispers hoarsely: “I believe I have found what I wish to steal tonight.”

The ardent whisper turns into a tender kiss which quickly deepens into a passionate embrace, all this making Daenerys swoon and push herself against Jorah’s tall figure and… _ Oh! _

"Why, _ Monsieur Lupin _, what have we here?” 

Daenerys can feel Jorah’s erect manhood between them, so she snakes down her hand over his powerful chest and tight abdomen, until she can cup his cock through the fabric. His _ naked _ cock under his slacks. _ Arsène Lupin isn’t wearing any underwear? _

"Ah! The lady noticed. It’s, shall we say, an erotic fancy… to better feel you, _ mademoiselle _, when we dance and per chance lure your hand about me. And it worked!”

“Oh! Arsène Lupin was such a…”

“An arrogant rake? Oh yes... guilty as charged. You’ve caught me. Now what will become of me?... Or is the better question, what will I do to you?"

And on these words, Jorah lifts Dany in his strong arms, like a kidnapped bride, and carries her down the esplanade to the topiary maze next to the _ château _. 

She laughs and pleads to be freed but Jorah shushes her with a kiss, stopping between two bushy, fantastical beasts before letting her slip to her feet. Keeping her close though, he kisses her again, and resumes their dance, though they can barely make out the sound of the orchestra. They move to a secret rhythm all their own and they cut a dashing figure swaying in this enchanted garden, under the stars. 

Daenerys is looking up into Jorah’s masked blue gaze and she swears he is mesmerizing her; the love in his eyes so abundantly clear, and his desire too. He is spinning her gently, his hardness sweetly pushing into her… and all the while, whispering more naughty details about Lupin’s _ faits d’armes; _ that is, the many ways in which the gentleman- _ cambrioleur _ seduced the women he robbed, leaving them with fewer diamond necklaces but with bodies _ satiated with pleasure _... 

The more Jorah talks, the more Daenerys feels her pearl harden on his words, his velvety voice caressing her secret lips the way his tongue would. But how does he do it? How can he remain so much in control, keeping the narrative going, when all she can think about is pleading for him to lay her on a stone bench to take her, or pushing him against a tree, and dropping to her knees to lick and moan her way to his ecstasy ? Well he wouldn't be her Jorah if he didn't know how to pace himself. She is such a greedy and demanding lover. He can have her thrice climax before allowing himself any release. And with the feeling of his hand now caressing her naked back, and slipping under the sequins to tease the swell of her romp, she is getting so slick again, it makes her purr… 

Indeed, the feeling is so good, Daenerys has to close her eyes and she gasps when her hand trails down that hardening cock again. Jorah is so aroused now she can feel the very contour of his crown through the cloth. Bolts of pleasure shoot up her spine as her fingernails_ dig _ into the fabric to caress the gorged tip by tracing its form; very much the way her lips would if she could put her mouth to him. Jorah’s breath catches then, his tale of Lupin forgotten, and looking down into Daenerys eyes, he lets her see the amorous feral bear take over. The azure of his irises turns stormy behind his mask, the expression of his eyes intensifying into a dangerous possessive glare and with one final twirl, he puts a stop to their dance, sharply, like at the finish of a tango, with Daenerys' back thumping his torso. 

The whisper of a giggle escapes Daenerys’ lips but Jorah silences it by bringing her head round to his mouth for a kiss. In this position, Daenerys can't help but arch her back and her rounded cheeks come cradle his imprisoned cock. God, how she wants to coat that beast with the honey she feels on her inner thighs! But it seems Jorah is not quite ready to heed to her secret wishes just yet. Indeed, the way he makes her wait a bit seems a sweet revenge.

Still kissing Daenerys and relishing the feeling of her cheeks hugging his hardness, Jorah caresses Dany’s arms until his hands round her soft shoulders to reach the strings of her garment. Lifting them, he pushes them aside and lets the dress fall to the ground. 

She is naked now but for her silk stockings, garter belts and sheer panties, a vision in the night, so beautiful and vulnerable against the darkly clad figure of Jorah. The cool nightly air rushes to her skin, making her cry out against Jorah’s mouth. Yet, he doesn’t let her go. He breaks the kiss, so she can breathe, but both his hands gently seize her naked breasts. Daenerys' alabaster skin is glowing in the moonlight and he can’t help but whisper his adoration on her skin, his kisses trailing her swan’s neck. Daenerys seizes Jorah’s contracted thighs then to anchor herself, and she lets him awaken her body. Soon, her nipples, erect to his touch, scream for his mouth. At any other time, he would swirl her around and heed to that call, worship her breasts with his mouth and then let his kisses trail down her succulent body... Yet, this evening, under the guise of his make-believe persona, Jorah finds he wishes to tease Daenerys in ways he's not accustomed her. And so, he prolongs the caress on her beautiful breasts, not answering her pleading whispers, and he growls his acquiescence in a deep rumble when she arches her back even more. He feels her breasts become hard under his fingers, her nipples harder still, like candied pebbles he could simply bite off if he dared. The thought makes his cock throb in Dany’s hand, the one she’s curled around her back to knead him in long strokes because his manhood is standing up-right underneath the taught fabric of his tuxedo. 

"Jorah, please...." He knows that voice; he must resist that voice. But will he when Daenerys takes his hand to make him discover the honey awaiting him in her secret folds? Her silken skin there is so completely creamy with want and so swollen. 

"Don't you want to take me?” he hears her whisper, out of breath. “Just a little bit, my darling? Just a tease? Just a little fuck?"

_Ughhhh Deanerys! _With a growl, Jorah crushes his love to him and then tugs on the old-fashioned buttons of his pants, making them _ pop _ to free his manhood. The sound of it makes Dany’s sex clench violently. She’s imagining Jorah’s cock roaring out of hiding, and her bear’s hand weighing his turgescence before claiming her… and the thought makes her cream. But it’s _ her _hand that welcomes the burning beast when it springs free and he gladly lets her have it. She can feel Jorah breathe more heavily now, his lips still on her neck, kissing her there, then licking her ear lightly as she fondles him expertly. Without even turning around, her hand glides on the hot velvet of his shaft, her fingernails grazing the skin of his sac, so tight already. And there are droplets of anticipation escaping the tip, all the better to make her hand glide up and down, once and twice. It makes Jorah swear in a throaty whisper and Daenerys moan in answer until she teases, stressing every word... 

"I'm wearing heels, my love, I wouldn't even have to bend over..." 

Realizing how true this is, the vision too compelling to resist, Jorah doesn't let her finish her sentence, he deftly lifts her right thigh, caressing it hotly and, with the whole of his warm hand, swooshes the silk of her panties aside before ripping the garment off. Daenerys gasps in delight and, anticipating Jorah’s next move, she raises herself on tip toe as he grabs her hip, lifting it towards him and slanting her bottom ever so slightly… for him to charge upward. A delicious moan escapes Daenerys as she feels her swollen lips being speared. She's so wet, Jorah can't help thrusting. Yet he keeps it shallow, the tip and just half of his thick cock straining Daenerys' tender flesh. Her bear is so well endowed, it’s enough to fill Daenerys’ _ petite _ cunt but she wants more. She wants _ all _ of him. _ But he’s teasing her with that impossibly sexy rumble of his… _

“Well, it’s what you wanted, luv: just a _ little _ fuck!" 

_ How dare he? _ Daenerys looks over her shoulder and kisses the smirk off Jorah's face while impaling herself on his cock, making them both gasp in utter pleasure, and begin their thrusting in earnest. 

This is another type of dance, a more primal ritual they excel at and are always hungry for, and the music they make soon fills the nightly air… until, suddenly, they hear footsteps on the gravel coming their way. Jorah hears the intruders a split-second before Daenerys and he instinctively folds his arms around her in a protective manner, bringing her out of the moonlight and into the shadows with him. They are well protected by the topiary animals flanking them and the strolling guests are one row over but…

“Jorah ?!” Daenerys can’t help whisper, “My dress!”

Oh, God, her dress is lying on the gravel, in full view, scintillating in the lunar glow. A nervous giggle escapes Dany’s lips but Jorah shushes it by putting one hand lightly over her mouth. She bites his fingers then, playfully, and he lets go, but hearing voices now from across the hedges, she pushes herself even more closely to Jorah. Her motion sends that _ big sword _ of his, still so deliciously erect inside her folds, up her spine. The sensation is so raw it almost pushes Jorah over the edge and his fingers dig deep in Daenerys’ skin, his strangled moan hot against her ear while she closes her eyes and swallows a whimper between pain and ecstasy... They’ve never found themselves in danger like this, and possibly never will again, but the dragon in Dany finds it all surprisingly exciting. And so, she moves against Jorah, making him tense up. She’s resuming their lovemaking — _ God!— _ and when her hand grabs his to lay it once more against her mouth, she knows he understands what she wants because his cock surges forward inside her. Yet… 

“Luv, no!”

“Yes!”

While they argue, trying to remain as silent as possible, the strangers near them, a man and a woman, begin to coo and kiss. Reassured that they won’t want to further their exploration of the maze, Daenerys picks up her temptress moves, rearing herself unto Jorah. 

_ What is she doing? _ He won’t survive this. With his back to the very prickly bushes, Jorah has no real room to manoeuvre and nowhere to go but inside his paramour... So, he lets Dany take him this way, his jaw clenching at the feel of her, so creamy and tight. He so wishes he could see her beautiful heart-shaped romp moving on his cock, the honey he so relishes maculating his shaft. _ Oh! will that couple ever leave, for the love of… _ And Daenerys is accelerating the pace now. He can feel _ everything _ about her arousal and it’s driving him mad: the way the walls of her core flutter and tighten, the smell of her jasmine washed skin spiked with the sweetness of her sweat, her whole body getting so warm now in the cool night air, it is _ she _ who warms him though he is still fully dressed. Braving the spiky thorns next to him and the voices from across the hedges, Jorah throws caution to the air and begins to thrust back, snaking his free hand over to Daenerys’ pearl to lavish it with her arousal and hold her mound to him. 

The dueling caresses are making Dany arch her back again, driving Jorah to penetrate her even more deeply, and she would cry out but for his hand on her mouth, which she covers with hers, to add pressure on her lips. The couple near them might not hear the profane music of their bodies joining but if they hear her cry out, she’ll never reach the rapture she is chasing with Jorah, and she won’t feel his hot release pulsating through her. And she wants _ that _, she’s wanted it all day. 

More giggles erupt from across the topiary, making Dany and Jorah feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through their veins and it spurs them on, the need to climax _ soon _ overpowering their sense of reason. It makes Jorah thrust deep in Daenerys, “taking her like the bear” she calls it, loving it when her powers of seduction get him to lose control, and it’s happening now. Jorah cups her mound even more firmly, lifting her to him, while he also savages her clit, rubbing it hard and fast, the way she likes it when the dragon in her lets out. And that dragon is moaning hard against his other hand, waiting for the hot whispers she needs from him to totally let go.

“Come for me, luv.” _ His voice again. _ “Now. All over my cock.”

And come she does, taking flight beautifully, thrown against him, her neck offered to Jorah… which he bites into as he silently roars his release by thrusting up, and again, then one last time, harder, lifting Daenerys with his charge. 

For a few blissful seconds, there is nothing in the universe but the searing pleasure they feel and share. It’s only when they can breathe again, and open their eyes, that they notice the silence around them. The strangers have left. They don’t even know when. All they can hear is the wind through the branches, the cicadas resuming their mating call, and the music from the ballroom, so very far away. Jorah exhales deeply, in awe, and tenderly embraces Daenerys. His arms circle her waist and cross over her chest, one of his hands cupping her breast to feel her heart beating underneath. It makes Dany sigh with contentment and whisper “I love you” before turning around to unmask and embrace the gentleman-_ cambrioleur _who ravished her in a topiary garden, one fragrant night, in Provence.

****

*“I know my love, we say _ flûte _ and not floote.”

**_ gourmande _: like gourmet but with added appetite !

****

**Inspired by:**

**Above: Poster to one adaptation of _Arsène Lupin_ (1932) and Maxfield Parrish’s _A Venitian Night’s Entertainment_ (1903). Below, _The Great Gatsby_.**

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**Barbara Cartland, my guilty pleasure. The book covers are priceless ! ;-)**

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**Topiaries**

And the amazing Edward Gorey in whose illustrations and wit I want to live ! 

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**THE END**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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